


the worst week of dean's life

by jhoom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, dadstiel, minor eileen/sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 18:22:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8220529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: Dean’s son is driving him crazy.(not nearly as angsty as the title makes it sound I promise)





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is the most autobiographical thing i've ever written - in which i am dean and am venting my frustrations with my son (not actually super frustrated, at best minorly annoyed)
> 
> come visit me on tumblr [@jhoomwrites](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com)

**Sunday**

It’s early morning when Dean’s roused from sleep by noises from the nursery.  Not angry cries or petulant whining, just baby chatter.  A quick glance at Cas reveals that his husband is still deep in sleep (or at least more committed to pretending to be).  Dean yawns and drags himself out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and heading to check on Bobby.

It’s not like he can really complain - the thirteen month old has been sleeping through the night for ages and Dean’s gotten a solid seven hours.  Cas has always been the heavier, grumpier sleeper and Dean won’t begrudge him a bit more sleep on the weekend.  Stopping by the nursery to pick up Bobby - who babbles happily at Dean’s appearance and sticks his arms up - Dean heads downstairs to make breakfast.

Bobby digs some tuperware from the lowest cabinets and starts playing with them, stacking them and opening them up only to close them again.  Dean keeps an eye on him as he makes pancakes.  He turns on the radio and either sings or hums along with the tunes, even dances to a couple songs much to Bobby’s amusement.  

Once the pancakes are plated and topped with some raspberries, Dean decides if it’s worth dragging Cas downstairs or serving it to him upstairs.  Given that he’s likely to get a pillow thrown his way if he tries to wake him up, he opts for breakfast in bed.  “Hey kiddo.”  Bobby looks up expectantly.  “Wanna go have breakfast with papa?”

“Pa!?” the boy shouts excitedly.  He throws aside the pots and dashes towards the stairs.  Dean scrambles to catch up and make sure the poor kid doesn’t slip and tumble back down the steps as he climbs up.  

At the top of the stairs, Bobby runs to the master bedroom and pushes open the door, the whole time chanting, “Pa!  Pa!  Pa!”  By the time Dean gets there, Bobby’s on his tiptoes pulling at the blankets.  Cas groans and tries to roll over, but the toddler has a strong grip and in the end Cas gives into his cries.  Lifting him onto the bed, Cas sits up and scowls at the room.

“Don’t worry babe, I come bearing gifts.”  And Dean hands him a warm stack of pancakes, extra syrupy just the way he likes.

“Hmph,” Cas grunts but accepts the offering, giving generous bites to Bobby who begs for food with an open mouth and pleas of _mmmm_ (the closest he says to food at the moment).  Dean smiles fondly at his son and his husband, heart warming whenever Bobby happily pats Cas’ cheek and says, “Pa!”

 

**Monday**

Dean’s starting to notice that their son is all too happy to smile brightly and call out “Pa!” over and over but doesn’t do the same with “Da!”  

Frowning as he thinks about it, Dean kneels down next to where their son is playing with some blocks.  “Hey buddy.”  His son looks up at him expectantly.  “Can you say ‘dada’ for me?”  Dean gestures to himself and enunciates very clearly, “Dada.”

Bobby tilts his head to the side (and damn if he isn’t the spitting image of Cas in that moment).  He considers for a moment before smiling broadly and saying, “Pa!”

“No, Bobby.”  Dean shakes his head, points to himself again and repeats, “Dada.  I’m Dada.”

“Pa!  Papapapapapapapapa!”  And then Bobby runs off in search of his Pa.  Dean tries not to feel hurt or frustrated when Cas leans over to pick him up.  Cas gives him an apologetic look, but Dean waves off his husband’s distress.  It’s his own problem, and certainly not Cas’ fault.

 

**Tuesday**

Dean has Tuesdays off from the shop.  He spends the morning puttering around, doing the occasional chore and chasing Bobby around as the kid wanders from room to room causing havok.  As Dean gets ready to head to the kitchen and make lunch, he sits down beside his son.

Very intently, he points at himself and repeats “Dada” over and over again to get it in the kid’s head.  After a few minutes, Bobby watching the whole time, Dean asks, “Bobby, who am I?”

He holds his breath as he waits to see if anything’s sunken in yet.  Bobby’s lips move to form a sound and it’s-

“Pa!?”  And then he’s running into the master bedroom and pointing at a picture of Cas on the nightstand.  “Pa!  Pa!  Pa!”

Honestly he’s not sure whether to laugh or cry.

 

**Wednesday**

Dean’s upstairs dicking around on the computer, wasting time on Facebook and browsing Pinterest for a new pumpkin pie recipe, when he eventually hears faint calls from elsewhere in the house.  He gets up and pauses at the top of the stairs, straining to hear better.  Eventually he makes out the faint call of “Dean!” and heads down to investigate.

The repeated call of “Dean!  Dean!  Dean!” leads him straight to the garage where Cas is balancing a squirming Bobby and several grocery bags.  

“Need help?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.  

“Yes please.”  He hands over Bobby and then rebalances the groceries.  

The three head into the kitchen and make dinner together, taking turns chasing after their son as he plays an impromptu game of hide and seek.  Cas does dishes while Dean puts the kid to bed, changing his diaper one last time and tucking him in.

Dean fails to notice the cooing his son makes sounds suspiciously like his own name.

 

**Thursday**

Bobby’s being cranky and probably needs to go down for a nap.  He’s stomping his little feet and Dean recognizes the tell tale signs that he’s about to start flinging his body around.  He looks up at Dean with tears and his eyes, making grabby hands and begging to be picked up.

“I’ll pick you up if you call me Dada.”  His son’s bottom lip trembles and he almost caves right then and there.  “Say ‘Dada’!”  Bobby wipes the back of his hand across his nose and trails snot along his face as he sniffles.  It’s both disgusting and adorable, but still Dean doesn’t cave.  “Dada!”

With explosive force, Bobby shouts clear as a bell, “Dean!”

“Wh-what?” he stutters, momentarily stunned.  

“Dean!”  

“No, Dada-”

His earlier tears forgotten, he laughs and claps.  “Dean Dean Dean Dean Dean!” he echoes Cas’ calls from the previous night.  

Dean drags a hand down his face in aggravation before he ducks down to Bobby’s level.  “Buddy, I’m gonna need you to stop saying that, okay?”  He puts his hands on his son’s shoulder and for the millionth time repeats, “Dada.  Da.  Daddy.  Any of those, kid, c’mon.  Dada.”

The boy’s mouth moves to form a _d_ sound and Dean’s hopeful, up until the last second when the kid chirps, “Dean!”

“Okay well, when you’re a teenager, I want you to remember this moment when you’re asking for the keys to the Impala.  Then maybe you’ll understand why I say no.”

Not even close to understanding (or caring) about his father’s words, the boy climbs into his father’s lap and starts running his fingers through Dean’s hair and patting his head.  It makes Dean feel marginally better.

 

**Friday**

They’re at Sam’s place for dinner.  Eileen weaves around the living room, picking up empty dessert plates to bring back into the kitchen where Cas is helping her do dishes.  The Winchester brothers are on opposite ends of the sofa, Bobby playing with the throw pillows between them.

“You done good, Sammy.”  Dean puts his feet up on the coffee table, wiggling his toes through his socks.  “A woman who can make pie that good is definitely a keeper.”

“She only makes the pie for you, you know.”

Dean can’t help feel a little pleased at that, though he tries to hide it.  “Even more reason I’m glad you married her.”

Sam grunts noncommittally, watching his nephew try to stuff a pillow into his mouth.  “He learned any new words recently?”

“Learned ‘stick’ the other day, though it really just sounds like a snake hissing when he says it.  Think we’re making progress on ‘cat’ too.  Oh, and the little shit,” Dean only mouths that last word, knowing how Cas gets about cursing in front of their son, “started calling me ‘Dean’ the other day.”

“Seriously?”

“Refuses to say Dada.  I’ve heard ‘Dean’ like fifty times in the last twenty four hours.  It’s driving me nuts.”  

“Hey Bobby.”  Once Sam has the kid’s attention, he points to Dean.  “Who’s that?”

Bobby’s head snaps to look at Dean, who waves.  Bobby points at him as he turns back to Sam.  “Dean!”

There’s a pause before Sam starts cackling, which only eggs Bobby on.  “Dean!  Dean!”  And then he’s hopping across the cushions to jump onto Dean’s legs.  “Dean!”

“I hate you both.”

“Why do you hate them?” Cas asks as he and Eileen rejoin the brothers.  

“Dean!”  Bobby pats his dad’s chest for emphasis.  “Dean!”

“Oh, that.”  

Cas bites his lip to keep from laughing as Sam explains everything to Eileen.  Eileen has the decency to look sympathetic, even if her eyes shine with the effort of keeping herself in check.  Dean always knew there was a reason he liked her best.

 

**Saturday**

Dean’s grilling in the backyard, Cas sitting at the table nearby and reading a book.  Bobby plays with some leaves and twigs, occasionally showing them to his fathers and proudly declaring, “Ssssstick!”

As Dean starts to plate the burgers, Bobby senses that it’s almost time to eat.  He rushes over.  Not quite used to balancing on the uneven surface of the lawn or in his brand new shoes, he only makes it about three feet before he topples over face first.  The two men share a look, bracing for the inevitable tears.

They’re not wrong.  As soon as Bobby lifts himself up, they can see his whole face has gone red.  He hasn’t uttered a sound yet, but probably because he’s sucking in the air necessary for an epic scream.  By the time he’s taking uneasy steps forward, the bawling has started in full force.  

“That’s alright, come to Papa.”  Cas leans down from his seat and offers his arms out for a hug.  Bobby walks right past him and latches onto Dean’s leg, screaming into his jeans and clawing at the denim.  

Just as Dean’s leaning over to pick him up, the boy reaches up and pleads, “Da!  Da!  DA!”

It takes him a second to process what he’s hearing, but then he’s grinning ear to ear as he bends over to grab him.  Rocking his son through his cries and whispering soothing words, he can’t help but turn to Cas and gloat.

Victory.


End file.
